A Weekend At The Institute
by VHS Love Tape
Summary: What happens when all the champions in the League are gathered under one roof? Series of smutty one-shots all taking place within one weekend at the Institue of War. / / / ! This fic is dead. I don't really like the old lore any more. I'll leave it up though in case anybody wants to read some of my earlier smut. I like to think I've improved some. ! / / /
1. The Winter's Heir

_**A/N:-**_

 **Light bondage**

 **F/M**

 **Slight unwillingness**

* * *

Glistening with sweat, the matron of the Winter's Claw reined up in the stables of the Institute of War. Her battle in the Rift had been a hard one, and the bitterness of defeat still lingered heavy in her mouth. Tomorrow would bring victory.

Unlike most matches, Sejuani wasn't returned home to the Freljord when the day was done. Instead, she found herself and her companion transported to the Institute. It wasn't unheard of. Champions were often called to gather when the powers that be decided to change the rules of the League, or sometimes even just to commemorate great events such as Urf Day or the Harrowing.

Golden bales of hay lay stacked in neat cubes in the corner of the stable. With one hand, Sejuani tore off the topmost brick and spread it out before Bristle. The great boar slammed his snout into the pile, greedily consuming the offering laid down by his master. Bristle grunted in appreciation as the Winter's Wrath ran her fingers through his wiry mane.

"You did good today, Bristle," she whispered, her voice husky. "Soon you'll feast on the remains of those who oppose us... Soon." An image flickered in her mind for a brief moment. A lithe young girl with a bow of ice and a heart not meant for the Freljord.

Ashe.

That pathetic harlot wasn't fit to rule. Marrying herself off to Tryndamere like a fat sow being sold at the market. It made Sejuani's blood boil just to think about it. Her teeth ground together as she ripped into another bale of hay for Bristle. The only solace Sejuani found was in the thought that, soon enough, she would wrench the crown from Ashe's pretty little head and rule the Freljord herself with an iron will and a heart of ice.

She laughed. The Frost Archer and the Barbarian King hadn't even whelped a child to succeed them. Their obvious distaste for one another was sweet.

"Such is the way with political marriage," she said, to nobody in particular. "No spark. No lust. No heir." She paused a moment and chewed the air. Something had just dawned on her. "I have no heir."

The words tasted foul. Each winter that passed only meant she was growing older. The Winter's Wrath had been so caught up in the battle for the Freljord, she hadn't even had chance to think about bearing a child. Besides, there wasn't a man in the Winter's Claw tribe strong enough to father her child. Fine warriors though they all were, Sejuani needed something that was a cut above. She needed a champion.

Tryndamere is a wonderful specimen of course. The thought lingered in her head for a moment. She spat on the floor. The coward had aligned himself with that whore Ashe. He wasn't fit for purpose anymore, though it would be nice to see that Avarason slut's face when she found out her husband had defected. She vented a frustrated sigh as she opened up a final bale of hay for her prized boar. Then she heard it.

Footfalls. Voices. New arrivals at the Institute of War. In a flash, she leapt onto Bristle's back, the boar not even so much as flinching at the sudden movement of his master. She stood on the saddle to see over the stable wall. The new visitors looked beaten and battered, fresh from a vicious fight in the Rift. Straining her eyes, she could make out the lead figure.

Clad in an ostentatious hat, a buxom woman carried an ornate techmaturgical rifle, her hair cascading past her shoulders so dark it shone purple. Following close behind was a foe Sejuani knew too well. Vi, the Piltover Enforcer. Her ridiculous hextech gauntlets still covering her hands as she trailed meekly in the shadow of the Sheriff. Behind her was one she did not recognize. A small creature, yordle, perhaps? Clad in bulbous goggles and juggling iron bombs with long fuses, the diminutive combatant moved with an energy that far surpassed his comrades.

Trailing further to the rear, Ezreal, that foppish explorer, strode along with a sense of entitlement that was unjustified and unearned. He stopped and turned to say something to the last arrival. Sejuani was too far to hear what was said, but she heard a handsome laugh even at this distance. She had seen him before in the Rift in passing. He was a cunning adversary. Robust. Smart. Jayce with his marvellous hammer that took a warrior's arm and a wizard's mind to wield.

Her eyes widened and a maleficent grin spread across her face. That was the kind of man she needed. With his seed, she would bear a son worthy of ruling the Freljord. She could see it now. A mighty warrior riding to battle when she no longer had the strength. He would be sharp of mind and strong of arm. He would be king.

Something had stirred within her. She ached for to lay with him. Chewing her bottom lip, Sejuani watched as Jayce caught up with his teammates and entered the gates to the Institute of War.

"Looks like we're going hunting, Bristle..."

* * *

Inside the Institute of War's great marble banquet hall, champions from all over Runeterra had gathered. Sejuani wondered what event it was that they were gathered for. To her knowledge, there were no celebrations taking place across Valoran. No silly little superstitious celebrations like the Harrowing. Perhaps then it was a rule change? She shook her head. It mattered not.

Glancing around, she could see representatives from all the factions vying for power. Sitting at opposing ends of the hall were the two most elaborate tables; one for Noxus, and one for Demacia. Seated across the room a short distance from her own table were Queen Ashe and her cowardly dogs. Tryndamere sat expressionless and disinterested to her side, while she smiled and charmed her allies.

Sejuani grinned. Soon enough she'd wipe that smile from the Avarosan's face. When Jayce gave her the son she needed. She glanced to the centre of the room at the Piltover champions. They seemed to be in high spirits despite their obvious defeat in the Rift. Somewhere in the hall, a ruckus broke out as Vi crossed paths with Jinx, that insane girl who terrorised Piltover and occasionally fought alongside the Zaunites.

It was dealt with swiftly. In the Institute, champions were granted diplomatic immunity, and Vi was powerless against the rules as arbiters from the Institute swept in from the sides of the room to defuse the situation. The two champions were wrenched away from one another, though not before the pink haired enforcer managed to land a right hook that sent Jinx spinning away. Sejuani chuckled. She'd been on the receiving end of that one before.

All night she waited. Watching the Piltover table with the iron gaze of a hawk. Olaf and the Ursine Volibear had begun to arm wrestle, spilling drinks and knocking plates aside as their ferocious strength collided. Sejuani paid them no mind. Her mind was fixed elsewhere.

At last Jayce excused himself to the bathroom. Now was Sejuani's chance. In an attempt not to be too conspicuous, she waited a few moments before she got up from her own table and left the hall. Her colleagues didn't seem to notice. They were too engrossed in tests of strength.

It was a long walk to the men's bathroom. The winding halls were empty save for Jayce and his silent pursuer. The Defender's footsteps echoed and reverberated off the cold marble walls, fluttering around the high vaulted ceilings. At last, he reached a pair of great double doors, brilliant varnish coating their dark wood. Sejuani watched as Jayce stepped through, unaware of his audience of one. The Winter's Wrath lingered for a time. She took few moments to go over the plan she'd formulated, before taking a breath.

Pushing through the heavy door, she stepped through into the men's restroom. Her prey stood at a washbasin before a large mirror, cleaning his hands and humming tunelessly. He didn't turn his head to see who'd entered after him. A mistake that proved advantageous for his stalker. Though her True Ice bola had been deposited in the Institute's safe box, Sejuani was strong. Taking off her horned helmet, she brought it down hard and fast, cracking Jayce in the back of the head.

He dropped like a sack of grain. The Winter's Wrath exulted in her victory, rolling over her soon-to-be mate. She took a moment to admire his chiselled jaw and strong arms, his barrel chest and widow's peak. He certainly is handsome, she thought, smiling as she felt a warm flush cunningly invade her nether. Wasting no more time, she stooped over to pick up her prey. He was heavy, all muscle and strong bones. She smiled once more as she threw him over her shoulder, scooped up her helmet and made her move.

Outside a storm had arrived. Sejuani's footsteps sloshed in the mud as she made her way to the stables. Fat beads of rain cascaded down in icy torrents. She sneered at the sky. The weather was nothing compared to the storms of the Freljord. Sejuani had seen fiercer storms while she was still a suckling babe.

An empty stable at the far end of the complex was her goal. The rain had come at a perfect time. Nobody would disturb her in this weather. The Winter's Wrath rolled Jayce onto a bed of hay. Chewing her lip, she trailed her fingers across her chest as she looked him up and down once more. Briefly, she left Jayce unconscious as she disappeared to the find Bristle.

Cold raindrops stung Sejuani's pale skin as they pelted her cheeks. A frigid gale blew her short ashen hair as she made her way to Bristle. In a bag on his saddle, she rummaged around until she found what she was looking for. Giving the ropes a firm tug, a wicked grin spread across her lips. The Winter's Wrath was ready to have her prize.

* * *

Sejuani was the first thing Jayce saw when he came around. Splashing him with some water from the trough, she brought him back into the world. He gave a start when he saw her looming over him. When he tried to move he found himself bound by hands and feet. With a groan he looked around at his surroundings.

"You..." he started, taking a long pause to gather his wits. "I've seen you before, on the rift. What's the meaning of this? Unbind me."

Sejuani chuckled before straddling the Piltovian. She felt his body tauten between her thighs as she ran her fingers down his cheek.

"Now, now," she said. Her husky voice full of pent-up lust. "There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"What are you-" Jayce pulled his head away from her touch. Her smile darkened and her hand followed, relentless. "Release me at once!"

Sejuani rolled her eyes. Pressing her finger against his lips, she whispered in his ear.

"Hush now. Just lay back and enjoy."

Arching her back, she loosened the straps that kept her breastplate in place. In a slow movement, she pulled the fur lined armour piece over her head and tossed it to the side. She smiled as she watched Jayce's eyes move to her breasts. They were round as melons, full and alluring. The leather strap that held them was next to go, and she sighed in relief as they hung free for the first time since her battle on the rift.

The Defender of Tomorrow tried to cast his gaze elsewhere.

"You're insane," he began, looking hopelessly towards the stable door. "Do you think you can seduce me?"

Sejuani laughed and caught Jayce sneaking a glance at her breasts as they bounced. She leaned in close and let out a sultry moan.

"I already have."

Jayce grunted as she grabbed his manhood. His stiffness was impossible to hide. The Winter's Wrath laughed once again. Rolling off of her prey, she rose to her feet to undo her leggings and let her greaves drop. Shimmying out of her smallclothes, she chewed her lip as the cool air met her moistening nether region. Eyes closed tight, she ran her fingers through the thatch of white pubic hair that covered her mound. Teasing her bud with her middle finger, she took in a sharp breath at the sensation that shot through her.

Once again returning to the task at hand, she looked down to see Jayce gawping at her. She almost wanted to untie his binds and feel him take her in his arms, but the risk was too great. She knelt beside him and pulled up his shirt. His chest was immaculate. His muscles were like something out of a maiden's fantasy, and she had them all for herself. She ran her hands up and down over him feeling herself grow wild with desire.

At last, she pulled down his breeches to reveal his member. He sprung out erect and ready. She smiled. He wasn't as large as she had imagined, but it was plenty enough for her; she wasn't particularly deep. Looking into Jayce's eyes, the Winter's Wrath smiled.

"With your seed..." She stroked his shaft. "I shall bear a son worthy of the Freljord."

Jayce winced.

"You really think this plan is going to work?" he asked. "You're not going to get away with this-"

Sejuani cut him off with a chuckle.

"What are you going to do? Pah!" She laughed again before planting a brief kiss on the Defender's lips. "Don't worry. I'll be gentle." She winked.

Working her mouth over his tense muscles, she made her way down his chest. For a second, she tweaked his nipples, delighting in the little jigging motion he made as he tried in vain to escape her touch. Again she moved further south until she reached his ever hardening rod.

Cupping his sac in her hand, she rubbed his member along her cheek. He was warm against her face, still cold from the night air. In a light teasing flick, she lapped the base of his shaft. He shuddered. Sejuani took his member in her mouth, locking her lips around him and licking his end. The salty taste was bittersweet on her tongue.

Slurping away, she cast her gaze upwards to find Jayce staring back at her. The expression on his face was hard to read. She knew he was enjoying this. How could he not? And yet behind that pleasure was some part of him wanting her to stop? She didn't. Instead, she took him deeper into her throat, as far as she could manage without gagging. For a moment she let him linger in her mouth as she salivated over his fleshy dagger.

With a wet slop she released him and gasped for breath. Glistening with juice, his piece stood to attention. Once more she teased herself, running her longest finger along the length of her slit. It came away moist as she stroked her mound. It was time to take his seed.

Squatting, she guided his sword into her sheathe, lowering herself onto him. For a moment she sat straddling him, motionless, savouring his hard length as it spread her lips and rubbed her sensitive zones. She stroked his face and began to move her hips, gyrating, slow to start with.

She let out a moan as his end rubbed her in just the right spot. With one hand she grasped his shoulder for balance, while her other roamed free to caress her breasts. She kneaded herself, squeezing hard when his prick rubbed that spot again.

Pulse quickening, she picked up the pace, bucking like Bristle when they were on the hunt. Her hand moved from her breasts to her bud. Light circular motions set her nerves alight and she moaned in ecstasy. At the zenith of her pleasure, she felt him pumping within her.

Sliding him in all the way to the hilt, she rubbed herself harder. As he filled her cavern with his seed she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed it had been over so quickly. She redoubled her efforts and moved her fingers ever faster as he emptied his last drops. She threw her head back as she reached climax. Her walls twitching and gripping Jayce's manhood, as if to keep him inside her for as long as possible. When he began to soften, she rolled off of him.

For a while they lay side by side, Sejuani covering her opening with her hand, trying not to lose any of his precious fluid. The pair locked eyes briefly. Sejuani smiled.

"Perhaps..." Jayce began to speak. He stopped for a moment, deep in thought. Sej turned to look at him, expectant. He met her gaze. His confident smile played across his lips. "Perhaps next time... You can wear the ropes."


	2. To The Victor Go The Spoils

_**A/N:**_

 **This chapter is fairly vanilla, if you want to get straight to the naughty bits, you'll want to skip to the fourth line break!**

* * *

Reverberating around the vaulted ceilings of the Institute's marble banquet hall, the din of the feast began to grate on the Grand Duelist. Fiora of House Laurent was growing weary of the event. She'd been torn away from her comfortable home in Demacia and dumped here for the weekend. Whatever the reason for gathering the champions together, Fiora was not impressed. Banquets and feasts were not unfamiliar territory for the Demacian noble class.

Sniffing the crimson wine that had been poured into her cup, she cast her eyes around the room to take envious note of those not present. The void creatures that were occasionally summoned to the fields of justice were absent, she noted. _To be expected, of course._ Those creatures had no place to call their own, and manifesting in the material world seemed to cause them great discomfort.

The Demon Jester, Shaco was also nowhere to be seen, mercifully. _That... thing. That one unnerves me._ Fiora shuddered and sipped the wine. The tart flavours took her mind away from the clownish killer. The other absentees were to be expected, misfits and outcasts with no real allegiance. She thought of Fiddlesticks sitting in silence, locked away in that easternmost summoning chamber. A part of her wanted to peek behind the sealed door and catch a glimpse of the scarecrow as it slumbered, but the more sensible side of her quickly quelled that desire.

Sejuani of the Winter's Wrath had been present earlier, but now Fiora noticed her empty seat. _If only I could slip away quite so easily._ Her thoughts were broken when a boisterous laugh boomed from beside her. A huge muscular arm sent her wine glass flying, spilling its dark ruby contents all over the tablecloth. She glowered at Garen Crownguard, who apologised profoundly. His infuriatingly happy sister, Luxanna wasted no time in offering Fiora her own wine as recompense for her brother's clumsiness. Rolling her eyes, Fiora tried to decline, but the Crownguard brat was so insistent that refusal became impossible.

With a frown, the Grand Duelist drained her newly acquired cup. _This is going to be a long evening._ From out of sight, attendants from the institute swept in to weave together basic spells. In a few short moments the spilled wine was completely cleaned, and the stain it left on the cloth nowhere to be seen. Disappearing as quickly as they came, the attendants left a gilded pitcher filled with that tart red wine. Fiora filled her cup once more.

The feast dragged on, and Fiora drained glass after glass. Soon enough, she felt the warmth of intoxication as it spread over her. She smiled. At least now the feast might be bearable. She sat drifting in and out of the inane conversations of her fellow Demacians. She'd been seated between Garen and Quinn. _What did I do that deserved such punishment?_ Garen was busy filling Prince Jarvan's head with tales of his victories in battle, and Quinn was... Quinn. _That peasant even brings the bird to the dinner table._ Fiora sneered as she caught a glimpse of Valour eating from Quinn's fingertips.

From across the hall, a ruckus snatched up the attention of all but the most oblivious attendees. Jinx had somehow aggravated Vi for the second time in one evening, and the pink haired enforcer had leapt over her table to chase the Zaunite. A short pursuit ensued, and the brutish Vi knocked numerous champions out of their seats in her heavy handed attempts to seize the blue haired vandal.

Jinx spun around with a grin to survey the mayhem she'd sewn. _Big mistake,_ thought Fiora, who'd been surveying the scene with the eye of a duellist. Jinx had made the first mistake, and Vi was certain to capitalise on her foe's blunder. Sure enough, the enforcer's fist came swinging to close the gap. The Loose Cannon had no time to react before Vi's heavy paw smashed into her jaw. Jinx pirouetted from the heavy blow and stumbled to the ground.

Attendants rushed in to defuse the situation, and Fiora let out a derisive laugh that filled the silent hall.

"Poor form," she slurred, dismissing the incident with a wave of her hand.

"The Grand Duelist has spoken," came a sarcastic sneer from somewhere within the hall. Fiora rose out of her seat and scanned the faces to see who had spoken up.

"Who dares mock Fiora of House Laurent?"

From the opposite end of the hallway, Darius, the Hand of Noxus stood up from his place.

"If you think the show was so poor, why don't you give us a better one?" Darius' voice boomed around the banquet hall like a war drum. Fiora was taken aback by his blatant affront.

"Insolent peasant," she finally said. "You would dare to challenge me?"

Darius spat on the ground in front of him. Fiora scowled.

"Attendants," she snapped, wine spilling from the chalice in her hand. "The Noxian fool wishes to duel me. Make it so."

* * *

In a whirlwind of activity, the banquet hall's very nature shifted as attendants from the Institute worked their magic. The room grew wider as a narrow platform jutted out from the floor running the length of the room. The shadowy mages ushered Fiora and Darius onto the raised area and thrust into their hands wooden replicas of their usual weapons. Through some interesting spell-weaving, the wooden copies were faithfully identical in weight and form. Fiora made a few practice cuts, slashing the air in front of her before assuming her duelling stance.

"First to down the other takes the victory," she smiled. Darius grunted and took a few steps forward.

Quicker than the Hand of Noxus could register, Fiora lunged towards him. In the blink of an eye, the point of her wooden rapier thrust into his shoulder. The thick plating of his armour protected him from any possible bruising, but the force of her lighting fast blow set him off balance. Acting on instinct, Darius spun with her strike, swinging out his axe as he twirled. The Grand Duelist saw the move coming a mile away. She stepped back out of harm's way with a look of nonchalance and feigned a yawn.

Savage and strong, Darius swung his axe in a heavy diagonal cut. Fiora parried the blow with a deft flick of the wrist, sending his axe safely out of the way. Thrusting at his face, the Demacian smiled when Darius brought his axe up into a high guard. Changing the direction of her attack at the last second, she jabbed down at his hind leg. The ferocity of her attack was enough to make him buckle and drop to a knee.

Fiora snorted in derision.

"Pathetic."

She took a step back and waited for her opponent to regain his footing. She wanted to take her time with this victory. Within a heartbeat, Darius pressed the attack once again, slashing ever more viciously. Fiora sent his axe flying away from his intended target and used some of her residual mana to draw a glowing picture of Teemo in the air in between Darius' blows. She giggled when he grunted in frustration and slammed his axe two handed overhead. She weaved out of the way and taunted him once more.

Growling, Darius sent his axe swinging towards her. Batting the heavy wooden weapon away with her rapier, she rolled her eyes in contempt. When she saw the wicked grin that spread across the Noxian's face, she felt her heart skip a beat. Yanking his axe back towards himself, he caught her with the hooked head. The blow to her ribs knocked the wind out of her, and she found herself flying straight towards his muscled arm.

The brute smashed into her collar bone with enough force to send her tumbling to the ground. She hit the floor with a thud and lay gazing up at the ceiling for a moment before she saw the huge wooden axe head hovering a few inches away from her neck. His cocksure smile burned itself into Fiora's mind as she lay powerless in front of almost the entire League.

"This," Darius began, addressing the crowd. "Is the true power of Noxus. Demacia's own _Grand Duelist_ is no match for raw Noxian might."

He lifted the wooden axe high into the air in celebration as the Noxian sympathisers broke out into a furious applause, joined by those few from elsewhere who appreciated a good fight. Fiora quietly got up and dusted herself down. One of the attendants moved to take the wooden rapier back from the duellist.

"No, please," she protested. "Show me to the training yard."

A mage from the Institute led her down a winding set of corridors and out through two heavy doors. Wooden beams held a thatch roof in place while gravel made up the floor. Dotted around the practice area were straw manikins and wooden posts for champions and summoners alike to hone their skills.

"I can find my own way back to my quarters." Fiora dismissed the attendant with a wave of her hand and began to thrust and slash at one of the manikins on the far side of the yard. Outside, beyond the shelter of the thatched roof, a storm had arrived. The sound of the rainfall helped set Fiora's mind at ease while she tried to forget about her embarrassing defeat.

* * *

Minutes turned to hours, and Fiora was beginning to wind down. She wiped at the sweat that had formed on her brow and took a moment to catch her breath. Normally she wouldn't train so intensely, but defeat stung her into motivation. The storm outside still raged on. The duellist cast her gaze out onto the dark grounds of the institute.

"This your way of punishing yourself?" a baritone rumbled from behind her. Chills marched down Fiora's spine. Darius.

"Come to gloat?" she spat. Spinning on her heels, Fiora turned towards her tormentor. Darius grinned and let a moment of silence pass.

"I saw how much wine you knocked back," he began. "That's why I knew I'd beat you. Not exactly a fair fight, but that's how Noxus does it."

Fiora frowned.

"Are you going somewhere with this?"

"I've come to offer a rematch," he produced the wooden axe fabricated by the mages of the institute. "No crowd. Just us two. You must have sobered up some by now. I want a true challenge."

"Why?" Fiora was suspicious.

"A little condition that I couldn't have added in the banquet hall... The winner—" he stopped to think for a moment. "If I win... I take the spoils of war."

Darius grinned. Fiora narrowed her eyes. The look he was giving her. She knew what he wanted. She knew what happened to women when men from an enemy army took their towns and cities. _Spoils of war indeed_. _Such a crass proposal._ She ought to have turned her nose up at it straight away. And yet... her pride had been broken.

"If I win, you announce it to everybody during tomorrows feast. You confess to cheating, and the victory of both duels is mine."

The Hand of Noxus chuckled, a deep rumbling sound.

"Then it's agreed. First to knock the other down."

Brandishing his axe, Darius assumed a combat stance. Fiora flourished her wooden rapier and readied herself for the duel.

"En garde!" she shouted, rushing forwards to meet her foe.

This time, Darius made the first move. His axe came flying in a quick but predictable ark. Fiora took a half-step backwards and batted the head of the axe downwards and away from her. The extra momentum from the Grand Duelist's blow forced Darius to change his footing in a bid to keep the axe in a guarding position.

In a heartbeat Fiora was pressing her advantage. Using the haft of his long weapon the Hand of Noxus defended himself from the blow and the Duelist took a moment to reposition herself. This time it was different. Darius' movements weren't nearly so haphazard. Fiora herself abandoned her flashy, unnecessary flourishes. She'd been overconfident before, drunk even, but now she knew how dangerous her opponent truly was.

Moments passed, and the pair just stood, guarding themselves from the other. Both knew that a single mistake could cost them their victory. Neither wanted to deal with the consequences of defeat.

Controlling her breaths, Fiora began to circle her opponent. The constraints of a narrow piste weren't enforced here. Darius matched her steps, keeping her straight ahead of him. The Duelist took a moment to look at the Hand. They'd faced off in the rift on more than one occasion, but here, in the dim magefire light of the training yard, she could truly take him in.

Drinking him with her eyes, she examined his every feature. Tall and strong, as to be expected of a successful soldier. His physique rivalled that of Garen Crownguard, who, despite his lack of cunning, always proved at least a moderate challenge. She noted he'd shed his heavy armour plates, though kept on a shirt of mail tucked into his black breeches, striped with crimson.

With aquiline nose and cleft chin, it was hard to deny that he was ruggedly handsome. His white stripe of hair spoke of experience. _Easy to see how he rose to prominence_. Fiora even had to admit that he had an air of charm about him, though he wasn't nearly as charismatic as his brother. Her mind brought attention to his victory terms, and she found her gaze drifting down below his belt in a bid to gauge what kind of weaponry he was equipped with down there. Alas, she couldn't discern anything through the moving fabric.

She shook her head. _How could I let myself be so distracted._ Focussing on the task at hand, she frowned. Lunging forwards she probed for weakness with a few light thrusts. He was quicker out here in the yard than he had been in the hall.

"Tell me," Fiora piped up. "In the banquet hall, were you holding back?"

Darius grinned.

"When you're at war, you always want to keep the enemy guessing."

 _Wiser than he looks_ , thought Fiora. _This may not be such an easy_ —a sudden swing snatched her train of thought. With feline grace she sprung forwards and ducked beneath Darius' blow. Now behind him, her counterattack came in the form of a thrust at the back of his knee. He started to turn as soon as he registered her move, and brought his axe low behind him in a bid to deflect the attack he surely knew was coming. He was just in time.

The tip of Fiora's wooden rapier grazed his leg before his heavy axe knocked the attack away. The Duelist pressed on. She still had the advantage here. Not bound by rules, she flicked the blade upwards between his legs. _A filthy tactic_ , Fiora knew, but the victory was too important. Unfortunately, Darius hadn't been so foolish as to not come prepared, a concealed codpiece saved him from the strike. The Hand of Noxus snarled.

"That was a dirty trick!" he growled. Fiora felt a rough hand gripping her collar. "I expected more from you." A second hand firmly grasped her buttocks. The Duelist gasped. Darius gave a firm squeeze before he threw her forwards. She struggled not to fall, but managed to keep on her feet. Her rapier was on the floor by the Noxian. He kicked it towards her and chuckled, eyeing her up like she was nothing more than a whore in a brothel.

"If the rest of you feels like that, I'm going to enjoy taking my winnings."

Fiora blushed. She was ashamed to admit, but his rough handling had warmed her nethers. _Perhaps it would not be so bad to lose after all—no! I must reclaim my honour_. Picking up her sword, she readied herself once more, ignoring the fire that was growing below.

Darius stepped forwards this time. Applying constant pressure, the brute managed to push Fiora into a retreat. She backpedalled further and further, until she was out of the dryness of the thatch roof and into the icy rain of the storm. She glanced downwards in a moment of brief respite. The ground was slick with mud and rainwater. _Perfect_.

* * *

Countless drilling in all weather had left Fiora with an understanding of how to fight well in all environments, something she was sure Darius did not share. Leading him out into the mud, she began to fight back. Parrying a simple diagonal cut, Fiora dashed to the side, taking care not to lose her footing. When Darius tried to readjust his stance, he found the mud clawing at his boot. He struggled, and Fiora knew she had him beaten.

In the end it wasn't a thrust or a cut that gave her victory, but a push. Small and gentle, while Darius was off balance and struggling to reclaim his foot from the boggy ground, she shoved his shoulder. The Hand of Noxus toppled over like a statue. Echoing his actions in their previous duel, Fiora hovered the tip of her rapier inches from his throat.

"The victory is mine."

She extended a hand to help up her opponent. For all his unpleasantness, he'd fought well, and with more honour than her. That was to be commended at least. Usually her duels were so much more boring. When she felt his firm grip, that spark warmed her nethers again. He rose to his feet and shoved past her on his way to the shelter of the thatched roof. His rough touch lingered on her hand.

"Darius," she called. Biting her tongue, she hesitated. His name was hard on her accent. He stopped and turned as she stepped towards him. _I must be crazy_ , she thought. _He's a filthy Noxian._ Her body acted in spite of her thoughts when she reached up and planted her lips firmly on his.

The Hand of Noxus pulled back and shot her a questioning look.

"Sometimes, the attacker may be driven off by the defender." She sighed as she ran a hand along his muscled arm. "But not before they plunder some of the spoils." The Duellist winked, and planted another kiss. This time, Darius returned the favour.

Fiora heard the wooden clatter of the Noxian's axe hitting the floor. His hands came up to meet her. She moaned as he grasped her rump tight and ran his fingers through her hair. To her surprise, his kiss wasn't as aggressive as his personality, an interesting discovery. Feeling herself being lifted, she gasped and broke from his mouth, craning her neck to see where she was being taken. Darius was making towards patch of hay that had been left to fill the straw training dummies.

The fire in her nethers had grown into a raging inferno, and Fiora squirmed and rubbed herself up against Darius' chain shirt. Even through the blue fabric of her leggings, she succeeded in rubbing her bud. She took in a deep breath at the sensation that shot through her.

When he laid her down, she made quick work of the padded ivory vest and blouse that hugged her figure. Flicking away a stray hair, she slid out of her leggings and tossed them onto the pile next to her. She found herself chewing her lip as Darius shrugged his chainmail over his head and let it hit the ground. Pulling him down to her level, Fiora tore off his undershirt and ran her hands over his muscled chest.

His physique was simply sublime; his taut pectorals and stunning abs marked here and there with rough scar tissue. She traced them with her index finger as he unfastened her brassiere and exposed her breasts. Her nipples felt the chill in the air immediately, but it served only to add to the excitement. Fiora hadn't known such a carnal lust as this since she was a teenager in Demacia.

There had been men since then, of course, a wealthy Demacian mistress is never without potential suitors, but none had made her feel so primal as Darius. Everything about this situation was so wrong. The cold air of the storm. The filthy Noxian brute towering above her. The thought that at any moment somebody could step outside and interrupt their tryst. The situation exhilarated every fibre of Fiora's being.

Darius' rough caress had made its way to her breasts. She purred as he kneaded her flesh. His strong calloused hands groped and pulled her pale bosom. She was powerless to resist; she loved it. He tweaked a nipple, sending a jolt of pain through Fiora's body. Quickly, it turned to ecstasy, and she begged for more. He pulled again, and her back arched as she moaned in delight. The Noxian planted a kiss on her neck, and she bucked her hips in response.

Steering her hips towards his, she felt his codpiece bulging against her inner thighs. Biting her lip she manoeuvred herself so she could rub her mound against it. As it stood, unmoving and hard as iron, it quickly ground against her sensitive nub, and a breathy yelp escaped her throat. Darius smiled. Taking a hand away from her breasts and replacing it with his mouth, he explored her lower regions with those strong fingers.

Tightening his grip on her thighs, he managed to make her grunt again, the same high pitched noise. _He seems to like that sound_ , she thought idly, before his heavy hands pulled away her underwear, exposing her dripping quim to the chilly air.

Running her hands through his rain matted hair, Fiora thrust her head back and surrendered to Darius' will. Feeling his teeth graze her nipple, she drew in a sharp breath, followed by another as his fingers stroked her lips. She squirmed in response, aching for him to enter her and yet savouring each and every one of his teasing caresses.

Cool air met the moistness of her entrance. It had been too long since she'd known such desire. As one of Darius' fingertips gently probed her cavern, she felt the cool liquid of her arousal as it dripped down to her rear. At long last she felt his finger spread her open and slide inside. She groaned in approval, and driven mad with lust she scraped her fingernails across his back and pulled him closer.

With a come-hither motion inside her, and a playful bite of her bosom Darius elicited that same yelp from his conquest. Her breath quickened and she ground against his hand. Using his thumb to rub her bud, he doubled his efforts. When he felt her walls twitching and tensing around his finger, he clamped down around a nipple and flicked it with his tongue until Fiora's whole body quivered. When he took his mouth away from her breath, she looked up at him, flushed and wide eyed. She was ready.

His right hand came away from her quim slick with juice, and he began to unlace his breeches. Fiora stopped him in his tracks and undressed him herself. Darius let out a sigh of relief when the codpiece dropped away and gave his member room to move. With her teeth, she removed his smallclothes and watched with glee as his member sprung out, hard and heavy.

Instinctively, Fiora took his head in her mouth. One hand bracing herself against his thigh, the other exploring his heavy sack and shaft, she knelt before him. Letting his sword soak up her saliva, she slowly took more of him in. His width made the task arduous, but the look on his face told her it was worth the struggle. When she could take no more without gagging, she slowly eased off, massaging his stones with her hand. She felt his firm grip on her head and looked up to see him staring back at her breathless.

Following his lead, she worked him with her mouth. She slurped and sucked, and gradually Darius' tempo grew quicker and quicker. The noises were so lewd and loud that they bulled over all of the bluster from the storm. It only served to make her wetter and hotter. When Darius forced himself a little too far, she had to release his member as she gagged and fought for air. A trail of gooey saliva linked his tip and her lips.

Fiora took him once again in her mouth. Using her tongue, she massaged his head under his foreskin with light circular motions that set Darius' eyes to rolling back. As his breathing quickened and his grip tightened, she felt he was close to the edge. And so she stopped.

"Take me now," she whispered as she looked up into his eyes.

Darius moved fast, taking Fiora by surprise and causing her to gasp. Pushing her back down onto the hay, he took her legs in his strong hands and spread her thighs, before resting her heels on his shoulders. Guiding his length towards her drooling cunny, he slowly thrust himself inside her.

She was sure he was going so slow on purpose, and she loved it. As soon as she felt his tip spreading her lower lips, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Every centimetre he slid in felt like a yard, and the sensation was a storm of pleasure surging all through her body. When he had buried himself to the haft, he paused for a moment, and Fiora felt all of his girth as it stretched her.

Unable to contain herself any longer, the Grand Duelist gyrated her hips to cause some motion, and Darius let slip a wicked grin. Finally he began to thrust into her. No longer did the Hand of Noxus tease her with light grazes and soft prods. Now he pounded into her with all his considerable might. And Fiora loved it.

Pummelling her with his masculinity, she felt his heavy sack as it swung and slapped against her rump. Each thrust shot arrows of pleasure through every nerve ending inside Fiora's cavern. She panted and gasped, moaned and mewled, and all the while Darius kept pace. Her fingernails drew blood, and the Noxian brute responded by burying himself deeper insider her. His rough thatch of hair tickled against her nub as he slammed himself as far in as he could. Fiora let out a yelp.

The onslaught continued, and Fiora felt herself building up to climax once more. All of her senses had given way to pleasure under his relentless pace and impressive girth. Her eyes rolled as she found herself becoming more and more vocal. Yelping and screaming as he kept up his assault. Darius' grunts grew louder and louder, and the pair reached a crescendo as they neared the zenith of their pleasure.

With a great squeal, Fiora was the first to break. Her walls clamped down over the Noxian's meaty member and she clawed his back as her legs began to quiver. Seeing his opponent beat, Darius let himself go and grunted as he spilled his seed. The Duelist felt his member throb as her walls continued to clench, and soon enough the warmth of his seed dribbled from her snatch, leaving a trail as it dripped onto the floor.

The pair lay entwined for a few moments while Darius softened inside his Demacian spoils. Neither said a word to the other as they caught their breath. The cool air of the storm began to nip at the wet mess of Fiora's nethers, and she knew she needed to dress herself.

"Tomorrow, at the next feast," she began, as she pulled on her smallclothes and clipped shut her brassiere. "You'll announce to everybody that you cheated and I won both duels."

"As was agreed," Darius replied, squeezing Fiora's buttocks one last time. She turned to him with a smirk.

"And tomorrow night, I'll see you in my chambers."

With a wink, she pulled on her ivory blouse and left the spent Noxian brute stunned in the hay.


End file.
